


Silence is Deafening

by CesarioWriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Discord: Bellamione Cult, Dom Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Explicit Consent, F/F, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Quote: I love it when a plan comes together., Slavery, Sub Hermione Granger, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Topping from the Bottom, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:09:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CesarioWriter/pseuds/CesarioWriter
Summary: Hermione Granger is poised to single handedly make the biggest contribution to the efforts against the Dark Lord - at the end of a leash held by Bellatrix Black.





	1. Cack Handed Contemplation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamkissed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamkissed/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Reign Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901920) by [drD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drD/pseuds/drD). 
  * Inspired by [For the Greater Good](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265854) by [Frogscookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frogscookie/pseuds/Frogscookie). 



> Inspired by a conversation on the Bellamione Discord.

Flagstone, despite its pillowy appearance, is not soft. Few such stones truly could be, no matter their appearance, though sandstone did sometimes give off an odd, welcoming aura. It had frequently come to the attention of many within the esteemed, ever shifting walls of Hogwarts that stone was, regrettably, rather unyielding.

Well, unless someone cast the keymore spell. Odd how such a strange combination of words would combine to turn any surface into a sucking, grasping entity that could swallow one whole. Thankfully, the spell had fallen out of favor long before the Weasley twins had begun to haunt the hallways. The last group to really employ it had been the Prewett clan back when the Knights of Walpurgis still existed.

A great many things had changed since then. For one, the Knights no longer existed. Well, not in that form, at least. Perhaps something of their original intent remained, ensconced as it was so firmly in the statutes of Roger de Moulins. The Moulin line had long held their pride at retaining their nobility and purity, though the Malfoy line, an offshoot founded in the early fourteenth century, was the only one to have been recorded to have settled within the British Isles. Perhaps that was why the Malfoys had so long been keen on their apothecary - it tied them back to the family business, no matter how many broken bodies they and theirs might have caused to require their services.

Yet many of the old and Olde were coming through again, a fact which tended to worry Albus Dumbledore greatly. Much of the world was changing, had changed, and the wizarding world retained its staunch adherence to mores that did naught to advance the larger wizarding world. Perhaps that was another sign of the Moulin influence within the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy. They had, after all, been one of the last to adhere to the Secrecy Statute, keen on continuing to fleece the Muggles for every farthing they could. Little enough could be said of how much this benefited the other families - The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black had begun a decline around the time their heir presumptive turned out to be a squib. Turned out to make somewhat of a splash in the Muggle world, so it was told, unless there had been a different Beau Brummel. Perhaps that was what had triggered the fixation by members such as Walburga on vocalizing the status and might of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

Individual members had done much to raise the stature of the House - Phineas had comported himself well during his tenure as Headmaster, and naturally, no one could fault the efforts of the current Scion of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

It was her efforts that had brought them to this impasse in the first place.

Albus Dumblebore leaned back in his chair, his spectacles resting low on his nose. Across from him stood three sixth years, each of them notable in their own way. Though lacking in tact or any form of forethought, the young Ron Weasley was a rather masterful strategist. It rarely offered a proper chance to shine, as the boy was far too fixated on the needs of the flesh and the distractions of youth. Beside him, The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, shoved his glasses up his nose yet again, smudging a bit of ink from his hand onto his nose. Dumbledore mourned his plans as he fixated his gaze upon the boy, allowing himself a moment of sadness that his lamb would not be brought to slaughter.

No, instead it would be the unassuming and much overlooked who would step forward on this day, for between the two boys, standing with quiet patience and a calm gaze, was the Muggleborn top of the class student, Hermione Granger. The likes of her marks would not have been out of line in past years, before he had slowly altered the standards. Many of the wizards who came out of Hogwarts now would never see the likes of the glory of their ancestors, for that was not what would be needed by the Ministry. No, the bulk of students would be as nameless, faceless cogs in the machinery to make wizarding Britain remain the powerhouse of international wizarding that it was. Most wizards.

Not these three. Ron, for his part, cared nothing for what they taught, and Harry? While giving some effort, the boy was hampered by the lacking knowledge which Dumbledore had withheld from him. It would be better for the boy to meet his destiny unencumbered by the details of his ancestry and House. He knew his control was slipping - his term as Supreme Mugwump had been unceremoniously lifted from him, and his role as Chief Warlock was similarly about to be lifted if the rumbling within the Ministry were to hold true. It would take more than a few influencing spells to get his way.

It had been a boon, then, for him to be approached by the ancient and doddering house elf Kreacher during a stopover in Grimmauld Place between Order of the Phoenix meetings. Sneering and barely deigning to spit out the necessary words, Kreacher had extended to Dumbledore a request for a parley from a most unexpected source.

Bellatrix Black, Scion of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, had returned, and she wanted a boon. A favor, of sorts, hearkening back to the days of their ancestors when knights were more than musicians and actors. Whilst he had purview over the task, it was decidedly one which he could not, in good conscience, explicitly ask.

Instead, he had faffed about over the task for days, knowing he would do as requested. Bellatrix had given him a strict deadline, after all, and the benefits would be likened to his youthful exploits, should any actually bother to remember them. So it had been, then, that he had called the young Miss Granger to his office and somehow, managed to pull a blinder. She'd hesitated, as any should when presented with a situation as shambles as it sounded. Still, she'd left his office thoughtful, obviously drinking in his words of promised glory and renown for single handedly ending the war.

Naturally, he knew no such thing could happen. Not with the boy's prophecy still hanging about, not that he could bloody well remember the wording.

He'd sold a bill of goods and now, Bellatrix Black was due to collect.


	2. Homage and Fealty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curiouser and curiouser. Bet Dumbles is regretting that parley now.

Hermione Granger was many things. She prided herself on her intelligence and retention of information, her ability to recover from the body blows of teenage life, and above many other things, her practicality. Though Ron was able to strategize effectively during games of chess, he was always at a disadvantage when they played Risk. He never could figure out how to get Australasia. She prided herself on her victories there. Her main source of non-academic pride in recent years would have to be successfully keeping Harry and Ron alive. The boys were dear, no matter how much it was sometimes like talking to brick.

Bellatrix Black was also damned proud, and quite rightly, too. Coming as she did from a long line of noble wizardkind, she had known while knee high to a kneazle that she'd do great things in the name of her House. Damned right she was, too, and rightfully smug about it. Took more than being a pureblooded society matron to make a difference in the world, and she'd done it. Took bollocks, it did, ones she'd shoved down the throat of those who stood against her and her cause. Bloody gits. 

At the moment, however, the single proudest moment either woman had was in not betraying their emotions before Dumbledore. 

Bellatrix had innumerable reasons for not trusting the elder wizard, going back to her school days. Not the least of which was his betrayal of Andromeda, manipulated as it was to appear to not be a betrayal at all. That alone would have put him in her black books had he never done anything else against her and hers. 

For her part, Hermione had long ago sussed his goal - her research had clearly and openly laid bare not only his history, but his secret keeping. It was why she had focused so heavily on pushing Harry to learn occulemency, so she could finally tell him what she had learned of Dumbledore's efforts for the greater good. It had not surprised her to be called into his office and told of the demanded request of Bellatrix Black. In truth, it seemed inevitable that he would do such a thing and remove what protection he could from Harry. For a Headmaster, he seemed bound and determined to have Harry die before he could finish his schooling.

Unfortunately, Hermione had also swotted up on the request from Bellatrix.

That reading had been particularly enlightening. 

She was glad she had long ago charmed all of her pockets to have an undetectable extension charm on them. She definitely enjoyed the fit of her jeans, but she absolutely abhorred the pockets on women's clothing. Who has the time and wherewithal to carry a purse constantly when you're running from class to class and have your six foot essay trailing behind you?

Dumbledore cleared his throat and turned his sparkling gaze to Bellatrix, his hand extending. "Would you care to sit, Madam Black?"

Bellatrix tilted her head, the tip of her wand twirling through the loose curls at her temple. "No." She grinned sharply and her hand twitched to the side, making Ron flinch backward. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. "Get on with it."

Clearing his throat, Dumbledore stood, his long beard wrapping around his forearm. "Very well. Miss Granger?"

Stepping forward slightly, Hermione drew up equal next to Bellatrix, standing before Dumbledore's desk. "Sir." 

The air in the room felt stifling as Dumbledore kept his steady gaze on her, watching her with minute attention that he normally reserved for Harry. Hermione was grateful that she had not previously been subject to his focus. It crawled along her skin as a living thing, the tendrils of his magic restrained in their probing of her mental fortitude. He hadn't been able to properly crack her since third year, and she wasn't about to let him start now. Thankfully, since the boys were both sieves, he'd not sought to properly crack her. 

Forcibly clearing her mind and releasing a breath served to push his attentions away enough to allow Hermione to breathe. She turned to face Bellatrix and met her gaze directly. "Madam Black."

Bellatrix held her gaze impassively for a long moment, taking the measure of the impudence that stood before her. How curious. Time enough to explore later. The business at hand came first.

"State your case."

Hermione spoke with calm, measured words. The boys did not do much more than fidget behind her, having been given a summary of what they were needed to witness. It was vital that they serve as such, being her closest mates and brothers in all but blood. She did not allow her gaze to falter or drop from the deep pools of darkness into which she stared. 

"Bellatrix Black, Scion of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, I come before you as a free person of sound mind, beholden to no cause, encumbered by no oaths. My wand is strong, my will is firm, the House of Granger is non-existent. I bring before you all that I am possessed and would dedicate it and myself to you and your House to the end of my days."

"Your offering is seen, though your loyalty suspect. You shall have to prove your worth to the House should you be accepted, a task of my choosing." Soft and resonant, the reply that Bellatrix gave was not unexpected.

"I shall perform all tasks given to me by yourself and your House as you deem fit. I ask only that you do not task me with that which is beyond my ability so I may continue to serve the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black in dignity and grace." 

"Your task shall be difficult, but within your abilities. If I am to accept you, how shall you be known to all others?" At these words, the low thrill of her magic began to swirl within and around Hermione, called forth by the ancient intent, colloquial as the words were.

"By the title you see fit to bestow, Madam Black." Hermione could feel the rich, smoky caress of magic from Bellatrix begin to entangle with her own. 

"If I am to accept you, what shall your duties be?" The swirling sensation of magic danced through Hermione and she held herself firm.

"Those which you see fit to allow me to perform for yourself and the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Madam Black." She was grateful that her voice remained strong beneath the reverent tone.

"If I am to accept you, to whom shall you be beholden?" A tendril of magic licked along the inside of Hermione's wrist and she swallowed. 

"To yourself above all others, Madam Black, until the end of my days." Her voice had dropped slightly, a huskiness beginning to linger in her tone.

"If I am to accept you, where shall your place be?" Bellatrix had a similar raw rasp to her voice, though it was slightly more subdued. 

"Anyplace you are, Madam Black." Hermione was certain that her pupils must surely betray the reaction of her body. She steeled herself to make it through the rest of the ritual without betraying herself before Dumbledore. 

Bellatrix straightened before asking her next question, her chin rising slightly in demanding defiance. "If I am to accept you, what shall you ask of me?" 

"To take me as sworn to you and your House, to serve as befits the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, Madam Black." If the magic continued to thrum through her body for much longer, Hermione would probably lose the function of her legs. The constant hum between them of their mingled magic enticed Hermione in ways she'd never known were possible. 

"The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black shall have dominum utile as I see fit. You shall be invested as second only to myself upon completion of your proof of loyalty. So as it is said, so it is done, in my name and by my will."

The swirl of magic between them and through them remained as invisible as it had been throughout the ritual, though the effects were clearly visible by the sweat that beaded upon their brows and the trembling breaths that they each took. 

"So as it is said, so it is done, in my name and by my will." The magic snapped between them, rushing through each of them in a tide of purest energy and will. Hermione shivered at the sensation, taking a breath and ensuring the strength of her legs. Once she confirmed that they would hold her sufficiently, she lowered to her knees, plucking her offering from her pocket and holding it within her upraised palms. 

Slim, akin to a choker, the svelte necklace was unadorned. The soft, light silver chain was charmed and spelled to within an inch of its life to retain its shape, cleanliness and adherence. A single pendant, shaped in the outline of a House crest, was suspended from the center and faced Bellatrix directly. Without a word, Bellatrix tapped her fingertip to the pendant. Bellatrix then lifted the still unadorned necklace and unfastened the clasp. She leaned over slightly, and Hermione's determinedly forward facing gaze was met with the sudden visage of full, glistening cleavage. 

She had, perhaps, not thought this through entirely, she mused, as had she done so, she might have chosen a more difficult accoutrement to serve as her visible declaration of her new House. As it stood, Bellatrix ably proved that she had fingers as nimble as could be hoped for and she withdrew from affixing the necklace with due haste. 

As the pendant settled into the hollow of Hermione's throat, the unadorned metal swirled and coalesced into the symbol of Hermione's new House.

The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.


	3. Logistical Manoeuverings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when will Hermione's tongue come back from the war...

"Well!"

The sound of Dumbledore's clap snapped the assembled group out of their varied thoughts. Hermione leveled a glare on the Headmaster as she regained her feet. The expression on the face of the woman next to her did not hold the maniacal glee for which Bellatrix was famous, but rather held a measured and slight smile. Whilst Hermione's pointed, aggrieved glare spoke volumes of her irritation, the look in the dark fathomless depths of the eyes of Bellatrix betrayed nothing beyond a placid interest.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks mired in confusion and worry, which did not go unnoticed by their Head of House. McGonagall noted to herself to discuss with the two young men forthwith lest they get the wrong headed sort of idea about the ancient rite they had just witnessed. Ron, especially, with his classic Weasley temper - not that such a thing had ever been visible in his uncles, the Prewett twins. Nor even in his older brothers, William or Charles. It was likely nurture as much as nature which had lead to the young man's unreasonable temperament. For his part, Harry did seem to have somewhat of a cooler head, though he was quite easily led by his prurient interests. A bit of flattery and the boy went gaga.

Yes, Minerva observed as she shook her head at the boys, something would need to be done about the boys, and that very night had she her way.

"You've a week's pass to get settled in your new House before we must have answer to whether you shall be continuing your..." Dumbledore did not so much falter as he seemed to roll his words around in his mouth before allowing them to be spoken. "Matriculation."

"No decision from the House is required. All members of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black are to complete all secondary schooling prior to beginning their path toward whatever illustrious career shall befit their stature as a member of the House of Black. It has been so since before the time of our esteemed forefather, Headmaster Phineas Black, and as Head of House, I see little need to change this tradition." The rich, smooth tones that emerged from Bellatrix interjected easily into the building atmosphere of the room, assuaging the burgeoning worry that Dumbledore had invited by his deliberate phrasing. Turning her head slightly toward Hermione, Bellatrix did not remove her direct, yet calmly passive gaze from Dumbledore. "As Hermione has already shown the utmost in proficiency in ten of her OWLs, I trust the deficiency in the eleventh shall be seen to with all due haste." Bellatrix tilted her head to one side and smiled.

It rather put Harry in mind of the expression he'd once seen on the face of a starving lion in a nature documentary at school. Though Bellatrix showed decidedly less teeth. He couldn't decide if that made it more terrifying.

"You are referring to the, ah-"

"Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I understand the instructor for the course has...abruptly resigned. I trust that the newest member of my House shall be provided with suitable accommodation when there is a sitting for the retest to confirm the results." Bellatrix laughed lightly, almost coquettishly. "As is standard in the event of a professor being unable to complete an OWL or NEWT year, since the time of the Great Unpleasantness."

Hermione shivered at the casual name for the mass burnings of witches during the height of the hysteria a couple hundred years previous. She was rather grateful that Bellatrix had said something regarding her OWLs. The Exceeds Expectations was woefully inadequate to her mind and had worried at her incessantly in the recent days. The option to retake her OWL in Defense Against the Dark Arts was a boon the likes of which she had not dared to dream.

Dumbledore's head tilted slightly, his chin dipping towards his chest and his lips parted slightly with a gentle exhalation. McGonagall took a half step forward, her torso leaning forward toward the Headmaster to catch his attention away from the Scion of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. 

"Headmaster, there is recent precedent from the days of Headmaster Dippet." Minerva did not mention that this was during Dumbledore's tenure as Deputy Headmaster, nor that he had been the one to oversee the retesting alongside the Ministry's official appointed proctor. 

"Indeed." Dumbledore turned his attention back to Hermione, taking in the calm demeanor of the young woman. It pained him deeply to lose such a valuable pawn in his game against Tom, but needs must. "We shall owl you when we have a confirmed date for the retest through the Ministry."

Bellatrix inclined her head in acceptance. "Of course. The Ministry does much to communicate properly with its constituents." Turning her head to Hermione, she raised an eyebrow, her fathomless gaze casually taking in the young woman. At the slight nod she received, Bellatrix returned her gaze to her former favorite professor. "It has been a pleasure to see you again, Professor. I do hope you will accept an invitation to tea."

Minerva gave Bellatrix a slight smile. "Of course. Let me know what day is convenient."

A quick glance to the boys from Bellatrix had Hermione stepping to them quickly. "I'll be in touch soon." Her arms wrapped around them both in a quick, fierce hug. "Just as soon as I can."

"'Course, 'Mione." Ron's reply was half muffled by the depths of Hermione's hair. His one armed hug was only mildly awkward by the odd position he had contorted his body into as she approached. Harry's hug was considerably smoother, and ended with Hermione running her fingers through the fringe of hair that fell over his forehead. With a half grin, she turned back to Bellatrix. 

Grasping Hermione's hand, Bellatrix led them to the floo and they departed from Hogwarts in a flash of green fire. 

\---

The flare of green fire that billowed into the antechamber of the Ministry of Magic belched out two figures, connected by clasped hands. Blinking the smoke from her eyes, Hermione looked around in startlement. She'd never expected to be able to be in such a venerated hall until well after her graduation. Various persons scuttled through the hallways, resembling nothing so much as a wizarding adaptation of Muggle Whitehall. Her hand was tugged gently and Hermione followed silently, her eyes casting over her surrounding with a low vibration of excitement. 

They wended their way through the sparse midmorning crowd. By her reckoning, Bellatrix was certain that the tea lady was making her way through the offices, incentivizing many to be at their desks. Only those sorry few third private secretaries who had thoroughly incensed their betters might be dispatched throughout the hallways so unceremoniously. Not many gave her a second glance, which puzzled Hermione slightly. Shouldn't there be more of an uproar at having a recently pardoned Azkaban escapee striding through the hallways of the Ministry?

Bellatrix led them down a bland hallway and knocked smartly at a non-descript door with a gilt sign. Hermione cast her eye over the design emblazoned on the brass - Lucius Malfoy, Wizengamot.

A sharp voiced "Enter!" sounded through the door and Bellatrix swung it open with a smirk. 

"Ah, Bella. It is good to see you so well." The door clicked shut behind them with a near imperceptible shudder of magic sealing them that would be imperceptible to one less attuned to their environment. Hermione noted the effect immediately - the noises from without the room were immediately muffled to the point of non existence. She wondered idly if the spells over the room served as mere silencing spells, or if they also served as a form of magical bug sweep.

She also wondered why it was that her hand felt excessively chilled now that Bellatrix had dropped it.

"Luc, a pleasure as always. Have you met Hermione?" Bellatrix twitched her fingers in a casual way toward Hermione, glancing over at her with a grin that felt like it should have significantly sharper teeth on display. "She was until recently a mudblood but has since been...elevated."

Hermione's lip twitched at the phrasing but recognized she had little enough recourse. Her reading, after all, had been quite thorough. 

"Indeed." Lucius rose from his chair and extended his well manicured hand. The second finger of his hand bore a deep impression from the fountain pen he'd recently used, though it bore no marks of ink to mar the paleness of his skin. Hermione met his hand with her own, surprised to find the man's hand slightly chilly. It likely made sense, given the pleasant coolness of the air that filled the office. "And by what name are you to be known by now that you have been elevated?"

"Black." Bellatrix spoke with a quiet finality, the pronouncement bringing a slight twitch to one side of Hermione's mouth. "She shall be known as Hermione Black."


End file.
